


Swings And Roundabouts

by KivaTaliana



Series: Swings And Roundabouts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, family life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaTaliana/pseuds/KivaTaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set around series three, Greg discovers the truth about Sherlock and then has to introduce his son to his returned from the dead uncle, while balancing his son's developing alpha nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As writing 'Complicated' was getting complicated, I have started to break it down into separate stories. This runs through series three, and finishes with the story Extended Family.

"Where are you going?" Greg asked as he walked into Mycroft's room. Will bobbed around the head of the bed, dressed in his pyjamas, washed, dressed and teeth brushed, ready for bed. 

"It's only for three days," Mycroft said, carefully placing something in the open suitcase. 

"I didn't ask you how long, I asked where. What are you playing at?"

Mycroft paused, knowing the dangerous tone of Greg's voice. He knew his omega well enough to know something had annoyed him. The only problem was Mycroft never could deduce what it was. Several things sprang to his mind, but he had a bad habit of picking the wrong one. Greg was a good few steps ahead of him if he was managing to be annoyed by several things and being ready for Mycroft's query, so he could say something else.

"You know full well there are aspects of my work I cannot tell you about. What I need to do should take no more than 72 hours." 

"And all your minions are on holiday?" Greg sniped, leaning over to glance over the packing. Mycroft said nothing. Will stopped bouncing at the head of the bed and watched his parents silently. He didn't look, or feel, disturbed by the mild sniping. Both Mycroft and Greg were careful around him, plus their relationship remained generally congenial, however much they annoyed each other. 

"Do you really think I am stupid?" Greg asked. By the look in his eyes Mycroft knew he was on dangerous territory, especially as Greg smelt strongly of his last heat. He was only just three days clear of it. Although they had not actually had a discussion about another child, the fact that Greg confined himself to the house, with Mycroft ready to deal with the situation, meant that it was a possibility. Not that it had happened yet. But Mycroft knew the affect it had on his biology. 

"I never said you were." 

"No, I don't suppose you ever did. But you also seem to forget that I am a Detective Inspector in the police, and I can analyse evidence, and I know by your behaviour something is going on. So don’t treat me like an idiot, Mycroft!" 

Mycroft stopped packing. "And to which aspect of my behaviour, or shred of evidence do you wish to refer to. Plus, do you think I would breed with someone of low intelligent?" 

"I am sorry, for the last statement," Mycroft said after a split second pause where Greg's desire to kill his alpha rose to the top of his 'to do' list, and was quite obvious by the look on his face. 

"So I ask again, where are you going?" 

"It is best I do not say." 

Greg snorted. 

"I did not say I could not tell you, I just said... in fact, I prefer you to not know. And that is not because I don’t think you can deal with the information. In fact, I deduce by this conversation you know exactly what is going on. And if you don’t want to be treated like an idiot, don’t treat me like a suspect."

Greg smirked, which put Mycroft into safer territory. 

"So you know full well that I know this is not a mere business trip. You hate travelling, and legwork, and those two new guards weren't much cop. Where did you find them?" 

"I was hoping they were so far from the usual you wouldn't realise." 

"Not likely. And I only ever really see any of your security goons when I meet Anderson and listen to his stupid theories." Greg stared at the carefully packed case again. Mycroft added another jumper, saying nothing. 

"He's very thorough with his research," Greg prompted. Mycroft’s packing slowed down. 

"Story!" Will suddenly insisted scrabbling across the bed to Greg, who automatically picked his son up. 

"What story?" 

"Yuk! and Snow White!" 

"Ok. That's two stories," Greg informed him. He looked over at Mycroft. 

"You settle him and then I will be ready," Mycroft said, resigned to the fact he was not about to get away with just packing up and leaving. 

"Yeah, you come in and enjoy your son while he's sleeping, I'll do the hard work."

"Daddy!" 

"What? Oh sorry."

"Bbbeeeee!" Will yelled as Greg passed him the cuddly toy. Will pulled it close. 

"Come on, story and bed," Greg said firmly. 

He didn't mind reading to Will, or easing him through his night time babble until he was sleepy enough to be put to bed. Greg settled him, watching the little boy sleep, safe and secure. It wrenched Greg's heart to watch him, amazed that he could look at the little boy and realise Will was his own, and worry filling him that the happy little boy would one day disappear and turn into a cynical, solitary, misunderstood adult. 

"I think that is an unfounded concern," Mycroft said. 

“You know what I’m thinking now?” Greg asked, not taking his eyes off Will. 

“There are times your facial expressions are easy to read, when you are watching him they are quite obvious. You are rather concerned William is going to end up like me.” 

“Sometimes,” Greg said. 

“I see nothing in his behaviour that warrants any concern.” 

“You should see him listening to Anderson,” Greg said. Even today, when he had left Will sitting in the high chair by the table, Anderson with his map spread out in front of them. Will had leant forward to peer at the map and he listened avidly to what the other man was saying, while Greg watched them from the bar, ordering their food and drinks. And also noting the two men who watched both him and the activity on the table very carefully. 

Greg was now getting used to the odd occasion when he spotted the secret service men who appeared to always be on surveillance. Now and again he saw the same faces, but the two he had seen today he hadn't known and they looked, as much as he could analyse it, more intense than the usual ones. 

"The fact that he pays any attention at all to your old forensics team member hints that he has your sociable nature." 

"His evidence suggests the pattern is moving across Europe." 

"I need to finish packing, the car is picking me up in forty minutes." 

In other words, Mycroft wasn't discussing it in front of their sleeping son. Greg wondered, occasionally, about Mycroft's childhood memories. Were there things remembered, incidents that perhaps people decided he wouldn't comprehend and could therefore safely occur in front of him. He never spoke of anything relating to it. It seemed to Greg that Mycroft didn't even exist before his current, adult self. 

Obediently he followed Mycroft back to his room and he sat on the bed, sprawling back on the pillows that Will had been bouncing on earlier and he watched as Mycroft finished packing. For a moment they didn't talk. 

"Are you seriously hinting at what I think you're hinting at?" 

"Quite obviously," Mycroft said. 

"You were worried Anderson would give me enough to make me believe it." 

"He clearly has. But the last thing I needed was you really connecting it. I always had reports that you disbelieved what he was saying. You clearly did not." 

"There seemed something very odd about the surveillance when I was with him. I didn't want you thinking there was any reason to contain him." 

"But you took in the evidence he was giving you?" Mycroft asked. 

"And connected it with the evidence you were giving me," Greg said. 

Mycroft sighed. "Very well."

Greg would have smirked, given the subject matter he could feel pleased that his suspicions were right, but there was one little niggling fact. 

"You couldn't trust me with the truth?" 

"I could have, but not your acting ability." 

Greg frowned. "What do you mean?" He sat up a little, shifting slightly when he realised he had been, by his posture, unconsciously displaying to Mycroft. Being just out of his heat he couldn't help it, but he didn't want to get distracted. 

"As you were aware, Moriarty's network was rather extensive. It has been reduced over the last couple of years, the project rather... time consuming." 

"Yes, so that's what...?" 

"Sherlock has been doing," Mycroft said, finally breaking the final barrier by saying his brother's name. "However, Moriarty wanted the final end to Sherlock's fall from grace to be very final, so he made sure Sherlock would do so."

"Moriarty killed himself before Sherlock fell off the building. Surely he wouldn't need to." 

"He would, because Moriarty had set up three highly significant threats, three snipers, on three targets." 

"Oh, John, I guess, and you but..." 

"No. John logically, also Mrs Hudson as another significant person Sherlock would want to keep safe. I very much doubt threatening me would worry Sherlock."

"So...?" 

"However, hindering me would take away a good deal of Sherlock's resources, at least openly. Therefore the final threat lay in containing me." 

"You mean me, he threatened me." 

"My heavily pregnant brood omega. As Moriarty phrased it," he added as Greg scowled. Greg sat up further. 

"So, you and Sherlock, worked something out." 

"A plan that made it look as if Sherlock had killed himself, with John as a clear believable witness to the event, and the three people being watched, whom we had to allow to be watched, and had to be seen to be clearly grieving, which of course meant others believed it to be true."

"But you pretty much took me out of circulation. No one saw me for that last month. You could have told me." 

Mycroft's face tensed. "You were heavily pregnant, and I was not risking you out in public, and as we had no idea how long Sherlock would take, or what would be required to destroy the network, we had to let the lie run, and even I could only keep you contained for so long. Your lives had to look normal, and you would want to be out, and would not want to keep William isolated."

"You risked John and Mrs Hudson in public." 

"They were not you."

"You could have given John a hint." 

"John Watson is not a good liar."

He could get away with murder though, Greg though, literally, as he remembered the cabbie he had shot to protect Sherlock. Although he hadn't really lied about that, unless not saying anything was lying. It probably wasn't.

"I get your point. But now something's changed?" 

"There is a little complication in one of the last links that Sherlock needs to deal with. By his communication I believe I need to intervene, and there is something here that may require his talents." 

"But you are not about to tell me what that is." 

"For the moment it's classified," Mycroft said. "I need to make a phone call."

He didn't immediately move. Instead the alpha looked at Greg, not exactly asking for permission to move but he was not about to leave until he received some sign from his omega that things were fine. Greg put that down to the affects of the last heat. It left them both drawn to and irritated by each other as they recovered from their hormones. 

"I need to check on Will." 

He didn't really. Will would still be sleeping, but it meant they could both move away from each other with no fall out. Mycroft nodded and left the bedroom swiftly to go to his study. Greg got up, opened a drawer to add a few items to the suitcase and then he went down the corridor to the nursery. Will remained asleep, his head tucked against Bee's and one tiny hand clinging onto a leg. Greg crouched down by the bed and brushed his hand through Will's hair. The little boy shifted in his sleep, but he didn't wake. 

"Looks like your uncle Sherlock is coming home."


	2. Chapter 2

The conversation and situation left Greg in a slight state of nervous agitation which naturally transferred to Will. Coming into the second day of Mycroft's absence they were entirely sick of each other. After a tantrum filled breakfast Greg packed up some items and put Will in the car. Greg couldn't really talk to anyone about it but by the same token he couldn't stay in the house, alone with Will. He needed a distraction; therefore he got into the car and headed towards Baker Street.

It also would put him in the vicinity of whatever action may occur. Very firmly in the vicinity if Sherlock was coming back. 

Will shifted about in the car seat as Greg fastened him in, but he paused as he heard the beeping of Greg's mobile. Rummaging in his pocket he pulled it out. 

'All well. Located item. Merely requires collection. Unable to make contact until complete. M'

"Okay," Greg said. He debated sending a reply but there was a good chance that Mycroft would not get it, and certainly he would not reply if he did. It was probably easier to wait until Mycroft made contact again. 

"Come on," Greg said, feeling happier. "We are going to go and put our stuff at Baker Street, and see Mrs Hudson and then go and listen to Uncle Phil's not so inane theories." 

Will beamed at him, waving his toy in the air. 

"Bee!" 

Greg smiled back at the universal word that could mean anything and in this case probably translated as 'you're forgiven.'

Greg didn't know what he was forgiven for, he wasn't the one suffering the terrible twos, apart from the fact he got to deal with Will's tantrums. 

"Right, off we go then." 

Within a minute Will was asleep in the car. 

"I could probably fasten you into a squad car and take you on patrol," Greg told him. 

Greg had debated the idea of going back to work. Over the last two years the thought had lingered in the back of his mind, but as much of his time got taken up with other things it had not made it to the forefront. 

Although he couldn't be entirely certain what Mycroft would say, Greg didn't think the alpha would outwardly object. For the moment, however, he remained happy, contradicting the belief he had held for years that he had not wanted to be a kept brood omega. Now he seemed to be exactly that and he hadn't really noticed the transformation. 

He let the thoughts wash through his head, occasionally glancing at his sleeping son. Greg wasn't sure he'd be happy leaving him with anyone else. When Will went to school he supposed the situation would be different, he'd have more time to himself and would want to fill his days with something. 

But given the timescale would going back to the police force be viable? Would he carry again in the meantime? Would Mycroft even continue the contract after the designated four year period? Did Greg want him to?

"Too many questions. There are times when it's handy you're awake," he told his sleeping son. But at least he wasn't far from his parking space at Baker Street. He pulled in neatly and made sure his permit was visible, at which point Will woke up. 

"Daddy!" 

"Hello." 

Will peered out of the window, recognising the scenery. They had been using Baker Street as a second home ever since Will had been born and Greg hadn't believed for one moment that Mycroft had continued the rent because Greg occasionally availed himself of Mrs Hudson's hospitality. Knowing what he did now the reason for holding onto the flat made sense, but even then it seemed excessive. If Greg dared to cite sentiment as a reason Mycroft would battle back with a barrage of logic. Greg smiled to himself and then pulled his face straight. 

"You've addled my brain," Greg told his son as he clambered out of the car. Will's gaze followed him as he went to get the bag and buggy out of the car. Will jerked in his seat, waving Bee and rattling off words in excitement. 

"Out! Daddy! Bee! Out! Cake!"

"Yes, I'm sure of that."

"Daddy!" 

Greg took the onslaught calmly as he set up the pushchair.

"No!" Will yelled as he saw it.

"There's a surprise." 

Greg reached into free Will from the car. The little boy kicked his legs in the hint he wanted to walk. It would not be worth the argument for the sake of the short distance to 221b, so Greg put him on the pavement and made sure he stayed close while he locked up the car and settled everything in and around the pushchair, including Will himself, ensuring that he stayed on the right side, away from the road. He kept at Will’s pace as he trotted along.

A few people who passed smiled at the little boy and then at Greg. The expressions would no doubt be different if they knew he was the one who had carried and birthed Will. He never corrected the assumption of how Will parentage worked. The people that knew understood the scenario. 

He pulled to a halt as Will wobbled, although he stayed upright. As Greg reached down to steady him he glanced up, following the direction of Will’s glare. The scent drifted to Greg, as the man passed, eyeing him in interest. He was just past his heat, and the scent was easy for other full-blooded caste members to pick up. Greg met the man's gaze, watching his nostrils flare as he took in the strong scent. He was appraised again, until the alpha looked at Will, who was shuffling in front of Greg in a defensive and possessive gesture. The man smiled and his eyes moved back up to Greg again, before he inclined his head slightly in a respectful gesture as he walked on. 

The exchange had taken no more than a few seconds, but it was always a telling moment. Greg had encountered a few of them recently. Alphas and even strong betas had been looking at him in an entirely different light, since he had started to show as carrying. Not a single one of them would dare try anything on, as Will was clearly still very young and Greg would be, therefore, tied into a contract. However, it proved his usefulness, again Will's youth hinted at that, he had bred recently. And Will's behaviour showed that Greg had bred an alpha. Will's gestures were not unconscious on his part but he wouldn't entirely understand them, but as far as Will was concerned Greg was his omega, and acted accordingly. It didn't work with Mycroft, but that was entirely different. 

Greg had always told himself that the breeding part of his status was not important. Now it felt so, he was not just a male omega, he was a breeding male omega. If he and Mycroft chose to split at the end of the four years then Greg would probably have no trouble securing a further contract. He had carried quickly, produced a full-blooded child, and his heats were still strong. 

"Not thinking about that," Greg told Will putting them back on course towards the door. Will clambered the stairs and pushed on the door. Greg reached over him to rap the knocker. Within a minute it was answered. Mrs Hudson smiled brightly as she saw them. Will trotted in past her as if he owned the place. 

"Hello my dears," she said. 

"Hi, sorry, short notice, well… no notice actually," Greg said getting everything over the threshold and pausing to kiss her on the cheek. "But Mycroft's gone away and we, quite clearly, cannot be left to our own devices."

"Terrible twos?" 

"Terrible mid-thirties as well, I'm as bad as him. Mycroft’s worse, but that makes us feel better."

"You and Mycroft are so funny, and cute." 

"The ultimate double act," Greg said, not sure if they were both joking or talking in reality. 

"You go up, I'll bring some tea, and juice." 

Will announced something from behind the safety of Bee.

"And cake. I baked yesterday." 

Will beamed. 

“At least you haven’t inherited your father’s food paranoia,” Greg murmured. Mrs Hudson smiled and went off into her flat. Will waited while Greg parked the pushchair, got the bags and they trooped up the stairs to the flat. He left the baby gate at the top unlatched so Mrs Hudson could pass it without hindrance. Will was of an age that he seemed to comprehend the dangers of stairs, and usually waited until Greg could help him manoeuvre. However, he could keep Will in line of sight until Mrs Hudson had brought the tea tray up. She was just as competent working around all the facets of little Will's life. It seemed to make her feel better. She had lost Sherlock, and still clearly suffered for it, but their appearances at Baker Street seemed to ease the pain. 

As she came into the room with a tray Will had installed himself on the floor of the living room with some little figures and his garage set, which Greg had randomly picked up from somewhere. Will giggled as one of the little plastic cars rolled down the ramp. He paused as Mrs Hudson came in, and his gaze followed her as she put the tray down on the coffee table. 

"Thanks," Greg said, in the midst of tidying up. He had left a few things lying around from the last time he was there. Mrs Hudson would tidy, and vacuum, but she had a habit, no doubt from when Sherlock was in residence, of never moving anything from it's general location. 

Will eased himself across the floor to the coffee table as Mrs Hudson put two cup cakes onto a plastic plate and some juice in a plastic beaker for him. Eyes fixed on the treat Will carefully picked up one of the cakes and nibbled. 

"How long are you staying for? Not that I am trying to get rid of you." 

"Couple of days maybe. Mycroft's away for a bit so we fancied a change of air."

Will listened intently, still nibbling. 

"Oh. You should try a holiday, the three of you." 

Greg chose not to comment. Mrs Hudson carried on talking. 

"I saw John yesterday, he came round for some of his things." 

"Really?" Greg said as he sipped his tea. "He's not been here... since." 

"No."

"Was he all right?" 

"He told me he's seeing someone." 

"Yeah, I heard," Greg said placidly. He actually knew, and had met Mary several times. He wondered why John hadn't introduced her to Mrs Hudson. John had cut himself off from a good deal of his former life, or at least anything linked to Sherlock. Greg wondered why he was exempt from the embargo of John's feelings. Perhaps because John had been there at Will's birth, it added a separate connection that had nothing to do with Sherlock directly. 

"It's quite serious, and so soon after Sherlock," said Mrs Hudson. 

"Not that soon, and they were never an item. Eat that properly!" Greg ordered Will as he watched his son stuff his cheeks full of cake. Will worked his jaw as best he could, crumbs spilling from his mouth. Greg rummaged for a wipe and started to clean him up. At the same time his phone started to ring. 

Greg scrabbled to get it out of his pocket. Will spat a glob of cake onto the coffee table. 

"For goodness sake!" Greg snapped, but he ignored the mess to get to his phone. He wouldn't have normally tried to grapple for it so desperately, but since Mycroft had disappeared off, and Greg had no idea where, or what he was facing, it made him a little desperate. 

"Hello!" 

"Greg, hi." 

"John, how are you? I was going to call you." Greg started to wipe up the mess Will had made while he listened to John. "Love to, when?" 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Wow. Really wow." 

"Is it all right?" 

"All right. John how much did this cost, and does Mary even care about that. Be nice, William!" Greg turned his head and yelled at the little boy toddling around the play area. Greg was trying to balance his child with learning about his caste and dealing with that and being around humans, just people in a normal environment.

"John, this is good."

"I'm moving on." 

Greg frowned at what seemed to be an accusation in those words. "That is not the reason that you want to propose to her?" 

"No. I love her, I know people might say it's quick." 

"Why? You've been dating for six months, you are so much better recently. Mrs Hudson said you came back to look at Baker Street, and I am sorry about the mess, but I kept all of Sherlock's stuff to one side, and a bit of your stuff."

"So it's not quick, I'm just... over-reacting."

"No. William do not make me.... excuse me one moment John." 

John watched as Greg got up and hauled William from the play area. The little toddler roared in response. Greg put him down on the floor. 

"Don't you dare! You share nicely or sit with me and uncle John." 

"He's only two," John said. 

"He's also a developing alpha, trust me on this."

"He's also a two year old, who loves you. Don't upset him. What's up with you?" 

Greg huffed and sat down. He looked into Will's eyes. 

"Be nice to people."

Will pouted, eyes straying back over to the sandpit he had been playing in, and not wanting to share with another boy. The other little boy looked baffled at Will's sudden disappearance. Rolling his eyes Greg picked Will up and went to put him back in the sandpit. 

"Play nicely." 

Will's pout held for a little while before he nodded. Greg left him again, keeping a close eye on him. John watched him with a puzzled frown. 

"What's up? You're not normally like this with Will." 

"I know, I'm being grumpy. His behaviour is reminding me of Mycroft. Which is unfair on Will, he's not doing it on purpose." 

"What's Mycroft doing, specifically?"

"Just his mindset that he can act unilaterally, without thinking about the effect it will have on others." 

"You mean like deciding to go off at a moment's notice?" 

Greg paused, his breath catching. It occurred to him he could say something, at least hint about the nature of Mycroft's mission, or point out that they had both been lied to for over two years. He met John's curious gaze, quite unused to seeing Greg so wound up, although there was also the utter understanding of the fact that Mycroft was annoying. For a moment Greg teetered on the brink of whether to say anything. 

The moment broke as a howl rent through the air, then a second followed it. Greg turned his head to see the toddler Will had been playing nearby whack his son none too gently on the ear. By the red mark on the other boy's cheek Will appeared to have started it. The only reason Will had started bellowing was the utter disbelief that someone retaliated. 

"Hang on." 

John watched as Greg went in to remove Will. The other boy's mother also intervened. His eyes drifted back down to the ring in the box. John snapped it shut and put it back in his pocket. Greg returned with Will hanging limply in his arms, sniffling pitifully. 

"That's nothing to do with being an alpha, that's being a toddler," John said. 

Pouting Will buried his face into Greg's chest. Greg petted his son's head. 

"If you go around hitting people, they might go around hitting you back," Greg said gently. It had however brought him back from the brink of indiscretion. Maybe he should say something, but the fact was, he couldn't. He didn't know what to say on that particular subject, instead he went for a happier one. 

"So, when are you planning to ask her?"


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the day Will was most definitely overtired. He had sulked for the rest of the afternoon, and even had a nap in the pushchair while Greg trawled around a few shops. It nagged at his conscience that he had not told John, but what could he really say, and was it his place to say anything. He had managed to coax it out of Mycroft, who probably wouldn't have told him if Greg hadn't pushed the issue. 

And he wasn't really that angry at Mycroft, over his unilateral decision to keep people in the dark over the situation. It was what he did for a living, one more secret was hardly going to burden him, apart from the fact that in this case Mycroft cared about the subject; he cared about Sherlock. 

No, Greg told himself, his annoyance at alpha behaviour came from before Mycroft, before the contract, and stemmed back to his wife, who had, Greg now knew in retrospect, treated him carelessly. Greg had told himself for years he wanted to be treated independently, that he could make his own way, but his omega nature wanted the support an alpha would give. Mycroft never objected to Greg acting independently, the alpha had assumed Greg would want to work, although Mycroft requested reasonable precautions given that Greg was going to be carrying a child. 

And Greg had seen it with others, when a compatible pair had set up a contract. Both of them working and both of them planning to provide for the child. If they proved companionable, developing feelings, wanting to be a family unit, that remained, they stayed together. If not the contract, at the end of the four year period following a birth, would be altered, negotiated to provide the best for the child. It didn't always work, but most full-blooded children were raised with the knowledge of the importance of their breeding lines. 

Some now rejected that notion but Greg had always been raised to believe it. Mycroft presumably had, and hadn’t paid heed to it until recently. As he had pointed out, Sherlock was not likely to start continuing the family line any time soon, if ever. Mycroft handled responsibility better than Sherlock did. As he mulled the facts over in his mind Greg decided that whatever plan had been concocted to save Sherlock had no doubt mostly come from Mycroft. 

As the sky started to darken Greg managed to get some food into his cranky son, then he wrapped him up and took him into the bedroom. There was a small little bed set up for Will, and Greg had been using Sherlock's, which might have been strange except he had bought completely new bedding for it. Occasionally he felt guilty, feeling odd shivers as he remembered the flat was Sherlock’s, it still felt like Sherlock's. But he had not been that emotionally attached to the items, and the remembered events, as John was. 

Will settled almost immediately, and Greg only read about three pages of a story before Will was asleep. He left the bedroom door open so Will had light from the living room, if he woke, and would know where to find Greg. 

He was just moving things around, half debating the idea of packing a few of their things up and taking them home. If Sherlock was returning, he would want the space back. Although Greg couldn't be too obvious about moving himself out, otherwise he would have to explain himself. So busy debating that, while he made a cup of tea, he didn't hear the door and only realised something was happening when he heard Mrs Hudson screaming. 

"What the fuck?" 

Dashing into the lounge Greg ran to his coat, yanking out the gun. After he had been kidnapped Mycroft had wanted him armed at all times. He hesitated as Will's little face appeared from behind the door of the bedroom. 

"Stay!" Greg ordered, although he had started to guess the source of the contention. As he moved to the top of the stairs, carefully unlatching the baby gate, he could hear someone speaking in low, measured tones. Mrs Hudson's screams slowly calmed. Greg stepped carefully down the stairs, tensing as he saw a shadow move into the hallway. By sheer instinct he raised the gun, so he ended up pointing it directly at Sherlock's face. 

"Hello, Graham." 

"Greg!" he snapped back in frustration. “Are you all right Mrs Hudson?” 

“I feel a bit faint.” 

Greg relaxed his hold on the gun. Sherlock looked slightly amused at the tension in him. Greg eased himself the rest of the way down the stairs and looked down the hallway to Mrs Hudson. She leant against the wall, gasping for breath, but looking fairly calm. Greg turned his attention to look at Sherlock, who appeared to be assessing his reaction carefully. 

"You were aware, I was returning." 

"I prised it out of Mycroft, yes," Greg said carefully putting the gun in his waistband. Then before Sherlock could say anything else Greg launched forward to hug him roughly. Sherlock made a strangled sound of surprise. He made no attempt to hug back, except an awkward hand on Greg's back. As he pulled back Sherlock stepped away, looking almost frightened of him. He pulled his coat about in a nervous gesture. Greg frowned as he looked at Sherlock's nose. 

"Someone not pleased to see you?" 

"John, he..." 

"I'll make some tea," Mrs Hudson announced. 

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said smoothly. He turned back to Greg and frowned as they both heard a clanking sound and then a little whispering voice. Greg moved back to the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. Will had ignored Greg's order to stay put and now lay on the landing, peering through the baby gate, like a miniature commando, and Bee had been employed as camouflage. Will's wide eyes stared up at him. 

"I told you to stay put," Greg said gently. He wasn't that cross with Will, who should have listened, but being a child, didn't always do so. 

"Sorry." 

"Come here," Greg said, reaching down. Will started to scrabble up, clinging to bee and staring up with wide, slightly nervous, eyes. Greg picked him up gently. Even if he wasn't going to take that much issue with it, it wouldn't hurt to remind Will that he needed to do as he was told. 

"Daddy told you to stay where you were." 

"Sorry," Will said thickly, clinging onto Greg. 

"You need to do what you're told. Just in case it's dangerous," Greg said gently. There had been no danger at that immediate moment but from the conversation he had with Mycroft before he had left, it was not a possibility to be ruled out. Will reached out to clutch onto him. "All right," Greg responded rubbing his hand up and down Will's back. Very carefully Greg turned and carried Will downstairs. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight of him. Will turned his head to regard the stranger, eyes fixed boldly, from the safety of his father's arms. 

"This is Sherlock," Greg announced gently to Will. "He's your uncle. Uncle Sherlock."

Will regarded Sherlock. Sherlock returned it with a look of shock. 

"I was eight months carrying when you died," Greg reminded him. 

"Yes, I forgot that."

"Well you can't forget now. This is your Uncle Sherlock," he reiterated to Will. 

"Ik Unc Il."

"Yes, like uncle Phil, but Sherlock is your daddy's brother, so more of an uncle. More like uncle John."

Will stared at Sherlock in contention. 

"Ik Unc Pl." 

"You can like both." 

Will looked unconvinced by this. Mrs Hudson caused a distraction. 

"I've made some tea." 

"Ach!"

"Is he in pain?" Sherlock asked.

"No," Greg said, swinging his son off his hip. Will toddled off in Mrs Hudson's direction with his cake radar on full alert. "Two year old is an entire language all on it's own. Mrs Hudson has cake."

Sherlock's eyebrows went up. "He takes after Mycroft then." 

Greg glowered, then frowned as he heard a shrill ringing from the floor above him. 

"Shit! That's my phone! Keep an eye on Will, I won't be a second." 

Will turned to watch Greg run up the stairs, and he trotted back down the hallway, looking confused and a little worried. 

"Daddy?!" 

"Daddy won't be long," Sherlock said, certainly hoping that was going to be the case. "We'll go and wait with Mrs Hudson." 

Will stared up at Sherlock. He met the gaze, noting the similarity between Greg and his son. Then Will turned as Mrs Hudson reappeared. 

"Come on, you want some cake?" 

That perked Will up, he trotted off towards her, letting Mrs Hudson lead him into her kitchen, after a brief glance up the stairs, as he heard Greg's voice moving closer Sherlock trailed into the kitchen. 

Greg managed to grab his phone just as it rung off. He was not surprised when the screen informed him that Mycroft had called. Greg was just about to press the button to call back when the phone rung again. He answered it immediately. 

"Where are you?" Greg demanded. 

"I am merely tying up some loose ends," Mycroft said. 

"You could have called earlier," Greg accused him. "Sherlock's just arrived here, so you had to have been back a while." 

There was a long, pregnant pause, which Greg knew was Mycroft trying to work out what the correct response was. He could handle diplomatic issues, or logistic problems, but put an even mildly irritated Greg in front of him and Mycroft's brain couldn't work out what was the correct response. He had no idea how to translate his well schooled manners into such a personal situation. Greg decided he wasn't that irritated and helped Mycroft along. 

"It just would have been nice to know that you were all right." 

"Oh." 

Greg rolled his eyes at the surprise in his alpha's voice. 

"I apologise, I should have made contact immediately after we returned. However by the time I had a clear moment it would have been when you were putting William to bed, I thought it best not to interrupt and then..."

"All right," Greg said cutting him off as he walked downstairs. "It would have been nice to know. And Will's awake now, Sherlock came back and Mrs Hudson screamed the house down." 

"Are you staying there tonight?" Mycroft asked. 

"Don't know. Sherlock will probably want his room back, we could use John's but.... it depends if you are planning to finish anytime soon."

"I will be no more than half an hour. I can collect you, and presumably we will need to organise moving any equipment from the flat." 

"I'm presuming Sherlock will want his space back," Greg said going into the kitchen. Will looked up at him, trotting over to him while Mrs Hudson set up his juice mug and found the cake tin. "Do you want to say hello to daddy?" 

Will pouted. "No!" he announced in a piping voice, moving away from Greg to Mrs Hudson, who had now put the cake tin on the table. Will stood near the table, eyeing the tin with interest. 

"Okay, fine," Greg said into the phone before hanging up. Sherlock looked amused by the fact that Will hadn't wanted to talk to Mycroft. 

"He's not very fond of phones," Greg said to him. Will pointed to one of the little cupcakes. 

"You want that one," Mrs Hudson asked. Will nodded. 

"What do you say?" Greg asked. 

"Yes, please," Will announced, as Greg lifted him up to sit him at the kitchen table. Mrs Hudson put the cake on a plate in front of him and also placed Will's juice mug as close as possible. Will picked up the cake and started to nibble, getting icing on his nose. Greg stared at Sherlock, still sore looking face. 

"You might want to put some ice on that." 

"It's fine," Sherlock said, touching it gingerly. "John knows what he's doing when it comes to inflicting injuries. I'll doubt he'll get another reservation at that restaurant again." 

Greg idly wiped the icing off Will's nose and turned to look at Sherlock, his expression turning into one of mild horror as several facts started to connect in his mind. 

"Oh shit! What did you do?" 

Sherlock looked confused, Will stared up at Greg, Mrs Hudson looked slightly startled. 

"Seriously Sherlock," Greg said. "What happened?" 

As he started to give a fairly concise run down of events Greg felt like banging his head against the wall. 

"He was ordering champagne? Why do you think he was doing that, it was certainly not to do with you." 

"No he hadn't noticed me." 

Greg lifted Will up and sat down, settling his son on his lap. Will took the opportunity of Greg's distraction. 

"Daddy!" 

Without even looking down Greg gave Will another cake. Will grinned, happy with that, he snuggled against Greg, nibbling his treat delicately. 

"He shouldn't have too much sugar," Sherlock snapped. Greg looked down at Will and then glared at Sherlock. 

"He is perfectly healthy and active and his weight is perfectly normal and neither you nor Mycroft are going to go about giving him a complex." 

"Big brother is looking a little big," Sherlock mused. 

"You end up causing Mycroft to go on another diet after I have spent two years weaning him off, I will kill you and do the job properly. Or at least finish the one John has appeared to have started! Did it not occur to you why he might be ordering champagne?" 

"It looked that sort of restaurant," Sherlock mused. 

"Which John can afford regularly, on his salary?" Greg mused back. 

"A special occasion?" Sherlock said. "He didn't know I was returning." 

"John's life doesn't revolve around you anymore. Mary was kind of important to John's plan. You walked in right at the moment he was clearly about to propose!" 

"Really?" Sherlock said. 

"Aw," Mrs Hudson cooed. 

"Might have been if he had got to it!" Greg snapped. "Honestly, you two bloody Holmes' think you can take one look and have everything worked out. Do you have any idea what you did? Not only did you make John think you had killed yourself, you did it in front of him!" 

"It was necessary to the plan." 

Greg took a deep calming breath, it wasn't really working but he tried anyway. 

"As perfectly planned as that was, it doesn't exactly take into account the psychological ramifications for the people involved. Even Mycroft got that a bit, sort of! Derren Brown wasn't involved was he?" 

"Who?" Sherlock asked. 

"Thank God for that," Greg said. "Point being, did you really think you could just waltz back in after two years and expect everything to be as you left it, or for anyone to really appreciate being lied to so monumentally, however necessary it was."

"I don't understand human nature," Sherlock mused. 

"Hallelujah!" Greg slowly stood up, lifting Will with him. Will pouted and whined trying to reach more cakes. "You fucked up, so when it comes to human nature you are getting there. We'll take some home to have later."

Will blinked and stared up at Greg. He clearly read something in his father's tone of voice that hinted that arguing was not a good idea. Will stuck out his lower lip, exhaled heavily and put his head down on Greg's shoulder. 

"Come on, back to bed, until daddy gets here. Mycroft's coming to pick us up, whatever we have left over when I've packed some stuff he'll probably sort out being picked up in the morning." 

Sherlock's frown deepened. "Have you been using my flat?" 

"Another great deduction," Greg announced from the hallway before he went upstairs. Sherlock turned to Mrs Hudson who shrugged. 

"Mycroft's been paying the rent." She held out the tin. "Cake?"

Sherlock huffed and took a cupcake stuffing it into his mouth in one go. Mrs Hudson gave a vague smile and put the lid on the tin, reaching out to pat Sherlock's arm. 

"I put flowers on your grave every week. It's nice that you're not dead."


	4. Chapter 4

Will was almost asleep again by the time he got upstairs. He put Will down on the sofa, getting a blanket from the bed to tuck him up into. By the time he had packed up some stuff in the bedroom and changed the sheets Sherlock was back up in the flat, sat in his usual chair, glancing around the room, regularly settling his gaze on his nephew. 

"I'm sure John will get over it," Greg said. "Eventually."

Sherlock huffed. Greg moved to the window as he heard a car. "Mycroft's here." 

Greg picked up a couple of the bags to take them down and met Mycroft at the front door. 

"Will is asleep on the sofa, and I've got a couple more bits to bring down."

"Very well. How is Sherlock?" 

"He has a sore nose and quite a bit of hurt pride as far as I can tell." 

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. 

"I don't think he quite got the welcome he wanted, and expected."

Mycroft sighed. "Does he seem all right? In himself?" 

"You mean, do I think this is a danger night? I wouldn't go as far as that." 

Mycroft looked profoundly uncertain. 

"I'll put these in the car and then come back. There are a few more bits to gather, you can carry Will."

Which Mycroft always seemed to prefer, given a choice. 

"Do you wish to drive, or take my car? Anthea can return your car in the morning if necessary." 

"I'm not tired, and it just means faffing about with the car seat." 

"Give those bags to Anthea, she can put them in the car." 

Anthea appeared as if by magic, holding out her hands for the bags and Greg's car keys. He handed them over, she gave a vague smile and went to do as she was told. Greg knew she would wait for them to bring Will down. Even she seemed to be unable to resist Will's charms. 

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as they both entered the flat. 

"I hear your reunion didn't go exactly to plan," Mycroft said to Sherlock. 

Greg gave Mycroft a sharp look, which he ignored in favour of picking Will up off the sofa. Sherlock watched with fascination as Mycroft tucked the little boy against him, while Greg ensured the blanket stayed wrapped around him. Will lifted his head, blinking sleepily. He regarded Mycroft for a moment, turned to locate Greg and then put his head back down on Mycroft's shoulder. Sherlock's mouth quirked upwards in amusement. Mycroft glowered at him. Greg gathered the other bags. 

"Right, ready?" 

"Yes. I'll send someone round to collect the rest of the items," Mycroft told Sherlock in a tight voice. Greg frowned at his tone but followed Mycroft as he swept off, when he reached the car he packed the bags into the boot and then watched as Mycroft carefully settled Will in the car seat. As the little boy roused slightly, giving a whine Greg tensed. 

"Bee! We forgot Bee. Hang on!" 

Greg dashed back into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. Sherlock was in the process of taking down the baby gate at the top of the stairs, or at least he was attempting to. 

"This thing is a death trap." 

"Oh don't be so stupid!" Greg said loosening the sides in a second and lifting it clear. Sherlock blinked, eyes flickering from the gate to the wall trying to work out exactly what Greg had done. He watched Greg walk into the bedroom and then come back out again, scanning around, to find Will's favourite toy. 

"We'll pick that up as well in the morning," Greg announced waving at the baby gate before heading into the living room. Bee was tucked up at the far end of the sofa. Greg grabbed him, turning to look at Sherlock, who now watched the activity on the street, while plucking at the strings of his violin. 

"Sorry if we took your space but it was..." 

"Convenient, easy to keep under surveillance, some sort of sentiment drove you." 

Greg wrapped his arms around Bee knowing it was an entirely defensive gesture. 

"All of the above. Mrs Hudson loves baking for Will, she's not on her own all the time, and yeah, it's still your place, I kept what I could where it should be... but I had a baby who became a toddler and the fridge smelt really rank so Molly took the body parts." 

"And you all got on without me." 

"We thought you were dead! We buried you! We mourned, we were doing so, especially John, and you fucked up tonight; worst timing ever! I talked about you to Will in the past tense, but because you were gone didn't mean that I didn't want him to know anything about you and..." 

"And you're getting on very well with my brother." 

"I suppose I am," Greg said, wondering what that had to do with anything. "It's been two years and you haven't been here, although I guess that those business trips he went on had something to do with you." 

"Possibly," Sherlock said. 

Greg snorted. "Whatever."

Sherlock turned back to look at him but he said nothing. Greg glared back before running down the stairs and heading to his car where Mycroft and Will waited. Mycroft stood by the open passenger door and waited until Greg had carefully placed Bee next to Will's baby seat, so it would be close to his hand if he woke up. 

"What did my brother say?" Mycroft asked once Greg had settled himself into the driver's seat, took a deep breath and started the car. 

"Nothing!" 

"You're offended, and I'd know if it was anything to do with me, you would tell me, and if you didn't wish to do so every aspect of your body language would tell me so." 

"And what is my body language telling you now?"

"That you are irritated, and as it is not me I can use a process of elimination to work out who you have been in contact with, or who you might be angry with, and as I very much doubt Mrs Hudson could do anything to raise your ire; therefore, by mere process of elimination, it has to do with Sherlock.” 

Greg couldn’t really argue with that, instead he started driving. Mycroft waited, patiently, which was annoying. He had long ago worked out that silence, at least his, presented in this circumstance, would eventually cause Greg to cave in and tell him. 

“Do you think Sherlock is ever jealous of you?” 

Mycroft turned to regard Greg with surprise. 

“That was not a question I was expecting.” 

“Nice to know I can surprise you,” Greg remarked. 

“You frequently do.” 

That rather surprised Greg. Mycroft was not someone who ever behaved as if he was surprised by anything. His alpha watched him calmly, still not looking very surprised but Greg guessed he was. 

“So, what’s your answer?” 

“I would not have thought so,” Mycroft answered after a pause. “However, as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he is very like me.” 

“Not in every respect.” 

“True, but both of us are aware of the importance of continuing the breeding line. However, I believe Sherlock is of the opinion he himself would not make a good parent. That does not perhaps remove the desire.” 

Greg came to a halt at a red light. "But you think you'd make a good parent." 

Mycroft blinked. "I do not believe I am doing that badly, however, I believed that you would make a good parent, which was why I chose you to breed with." 

"So you based your breeding choice on the fact that I would make a good parent?" 

"I just said that. But yes, and as we have already established, I had no desire to pander to an over-romanticized omega, so you fit that category as well."

Greg smirked. "You really know how to make an omega feel special."

There was a short pause. When Mycroft broke it he sounded irritated. 

"You're finding me amusing again." 

"Amusing is never the word for it, Mycroft. Hilarious is a little more accurate." 

"This doesn't require an apology?" 

"No," Greg said. "Nor flowers, or cards or helpful time off from work or a holiday, none of the above. You're quite right, we're fairly well matched, and not traumatizing Will in any way. At least I don't think we are." He glanced back at the sleeping little boy, reassured by the peaceful look on his face. "But Sherlock thinks we are weird."

"Sherlock can think as he likes, it is no concern of his. As to if Sherlock is jealous of me. In the context of child rearing maybe so, he might be aware that his parenting skills are suspect, and would therefore not want to breed simply because he would want to be involved, and yet, his own self analysis has deemed that he would be detrimental."

"You've done the same and decided that if you were detrimental you'd just leave it to me. Actually, that's in the contract isn't it?" Greg didn't add it was one of the reasons he had taken it, because he actually thought Mycroft would use it as a get out from dealing with any children they had. 

"There are elements of my personality that are more pragmatic than Sherlock's," Mycroft said. "Yes, it seemed a sensible precaution, I would have stepped back if I felt anything I did was detrimental to Will. Which I believe I have not done." 

"No," Greg said. 

Mycroft didn't fuss over Will, didn't coo like most parents - like Greg himself did - or behave over affectionately. He was there, he offered stability and if Will wanted his attention, babbled at him, or crawled around under Mycroft's feet, Mycroft took the hint and paid attention; he listened politely to the babble, talked back in a perfectly reasonable tone and read stories; picked Will up if he was underfoot, and generally paid attention when Will wanted it. He had even gone so far as to work out the intricacies of changing nappies and feeds for when Greg felt overwrought and tired. It was the first time he had seen Mycroft insecure doing anything, as he looked to Greg the first few times he had done a feed and change, just to ensure he was handling Will in the correct manner. 

Mycroft now performed the tasks the exact same way Greg did them, after he had spent the first few weeks struggling to work things out without much of a template to work by. As with the workings of a relationship Mycroft worked by Greg's standards, because that was helpful for him to comprehend it. 

Greg was aware, Mycroft detested, and held in contempt, most of the people around him. He found them inane, idiotic and various other words that sprang to Greg's mind. Quite obviously he fell in several of those categories, or at least he felt he did. But Sherlock had liked him, he had tolerated Sherlock when this insane seeming person kept turning up at crime scenes and solving them in minutes. 

That had been the redeeming fact; he had seen something good in Sherlock, and helped Sherlock cultivate it. Mycroft had looked at that, and had seen it, and had wanted the same thing. 

"Okay, so what is going on, what do you need Sherlock for, and can I help?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure I like this chapter but I really do need to get stuff put out so I can work through it, so here it is anyway, and I am trying to write around the following story Extended Family, so I am kind of treading carefully to make it make sent, without making more work for myself.

"Enough cake, you," Greg warned taking the cupcake that Will had grabbed out of his hands. Will's face crumpled. Greg looked impassive. 

"No, and don't you dare, or you can go straight to bed." 

Will's face stopped crumpling, and he stared at Greg with wide eyes before scrabbling up to demand a cuddle from him. Greg smirked and lifted his son into his lap. He caught Molly watching out of the corner of his eye, a deep longing on her face. Greg wondered what it really related to. That she wanted to settle down and have kids, and watching Will merely strengthened those desires, or was it something else. She was not full-bloodied, but she understood it more than most, she listened and learnt and wanted to know. Now and again Greg wondered if that knowing was because she wanted Sherlock, or because she just wanted to understand a troubled friend. As much as Greg wanted to think the latter, he thought the former was more likely. Molly loved Sherlock; Greg was not going to cheapen her emotions by entertaining the fact she just liked the full-bloodied. It was Sherlock, simply Sherlock, she wanted. 

Her new boyfriend was a clear, although not full-blooded, substitute and he had seen the looks that John and Sherlock had passed between them. Greg had refused to play at that level, and had been welcoming, talking to everyone, actually enjoying socialising, while trying to contain his overexcited son and avoid too many probing questions about his own omega nature. He thought to himself that he would have liked to have had Mycroft there. Not that he would have joined in, he would have lingered in the background, pretending to not want to be there. However, Greg had worked out, Mycroft didn't mind things if Greg was there, and now, of course, Will. 

But his bloody alpha had thrown another curveball at him. Parents! 

Which did not seem like a huge issue, but Greg had never really thought about Mycroft having any other family than Sherlock. They had to have parents, but considering the fact that Mycroft never mentioned them Greg had presumed them dead. Sherlock was the same, he had never mentioned them, even in passing. 

Now they were in London, seeing Les Miserables, with Mycroft. 

"William, I will not tell you again," Greg said sternly. Will's little hand had reached out for another cake, he turned and looked at Greg, lower lip pouted out, and wobbling slightly. 

"It is a special occasion," Mrs Hudson said. "But if you eat them all now, you won't have any to take home." 

"How many home?" Will asked the words incomprehensible to everyone but Greg. Mrs Hudson looked to him. Everyone else did the same, which made Greg feel incredibly mean, since all they understood was Will's needy tone, but then again, none of them had to handle Will on a sugar rush. Greg had dealt with Sherlock high on substances, which was a doddle compared to a cranky toddler. 

"Some, for later. You'll be sick if you eat too many now." 

"And you'll get fat," Sherlock announced. Greg glared at him. 

"You dare, Sherlock! To him or Mycroft!" 

Sherlock smirked at him. 

"Daddy!" Will announced, hopping on one foot. 

"Right, okay!" Greg picked him up and hoisted his son in the direction of the bathroom. 

When he came out after toileting and tidying Will up they ran into Sherlock, stood in the corridor, holding his phone and looking smug. 

"Mycroft appears to be not enjoying himself."

"Lovely," Greg said tersely. "While we're on the subject, who's he ashamed of exactly."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, looking Greg up and down and then assessing Will, who had calmed down from the sugar rush, and instead seemed to be gearing up for a nap. A sleeping Will was easy to deal with. 

Sherlock didn't speak as he grabbed the deerstalker and dropped it onto his head to go outside. Greg huffed, stepping aside to let John follow him. Sherlock's voice floated back up the stairs, to give Greg his answer. 

"Himself, probably."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Most of the time Greg tried not to think about what Sherlock said, unless it related to the crime in question. Greg felt quite proud of himself for his recent work with Sherlock; he had helped build the wall of information, and had even worked on surveillance. Sherlock had been right in the fact that no one really noticed a man looking after his little boy; and when walking along a street, he was far less obvious than anyone else. Even Will seemed to catch on, which worried Greg a little, but he had been listening to Anderson's conspiracy theories since the cradle, and William was a Holmes. Thankfully he had some Lestrade genes to level it out, or at least Greg hoped that would be the case. 

"Are you all right?" Mycroft asked, interrupting Greg's contemplation of his sleeping son. 

"Just assessing the genetic combination," Greg said reaching out to stroke Will's hair. The little boy shifted slightly, but stayed asleep. Mycroft moved closer to look down at his sleeping son. 

"He thankfully looks like you." 

"I hope he's got some of my personality in there, as well as there being a little bit of you. He seems clever enough." 

"How did Sherlock's press conference go?" 

"Okay," Greg said. "You should see Molly's boyfriend," he added, unable to not gossip a little. "Something of a Sherlock substitute." 

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "I would think that is not an entirely healthy thing." 

"Probably not," Greg said. "Especially since the real thing has returned." 

"Sherlock will have no inclination to breed with her." 

Greg scowled, but he understood Mycroft's way of thinking and managed to not be riled by it, on Molly's behalf. 

"I don't think that's even crossed her mind; breeding with the thought of genetics in mind. I think she just loves Sherlock." 

Mycroft processed that, his mind considering the fact that Molly was not full-blooded and therefore Mycroft himself would find a way to prevent the match, if Sherlock showed any inclination to pursue it. Not that he was going to voice that to Greg. 

"What?" Greg asked him as he realised Mycroft was staring at him thoughtfully. 

"Would you say I was isolated; lonely?" 

Greg frowned, opening his mouth and then closing it again as he processed that question.

"You've got me and Will," Greg said. "And your family," he added with a slight edge, which Mycroft did not fail to notice. 

"But I am remote from the relationship that you and William have, and I have separate relationships with you both..." 

"What in hell's name has Sherlock said to you?" Greg asked pinpointing the source of Mycroft's contention, and for a moment forgetting the issue with Mycroft's parents. 

"Nothing specific." 

"Really? Because that was a very specific question." 

"Perhaps I should not have mentioned it." 

"But you have, and I know I ask people to try not to punch him, but I am very inclined to punch Sherlock occasionally, and it always seem to relate to something he says to you." 

Mycroft shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "I'd rather not hint to him that anything he has said has got to me." 

"He's quite good at that isn't he. He goes on about not feeling emotion and he's one of the most emotional people I know, and he really doesn't like the way other people go about it." 

"I don't show emotion." 

"Not in the conventional sense no," Greg mused. "Do you remember when I miscarried?" 

"Distinctly." 

"You didn't rush to get to me, I think I would have hated that if you did."

"I thought you might." 

"Plus I also had John and Sherlock with me." 

"Also, as you were in the station, Donovan had been there and Anderson." 

Greg blinked, then nodded, "yeah. Afterwards you stayed at home for a few days, but you didn't fuss, it didn't mean to say that I didn't know you were worried, and you chose to stay there and you didn't make a big deal of it. You show emotion Mycroft, sometimes by simply not showing it." 

"I was concerned, and not because it was a case of our contract." 

"But of course you looked into that," Greg said. "Serious miscarriages can prevent further breeding."

"I was not concerned about that considering the physical evidence prior to that and your reactionary heat strengthens the theory." 

"Yeah, you're made of sterner stuff than anyone I know." 

"And this refers to the fact that you are still concerned about Will's parentage." 

"I fucking knocked you out and Sherlock took over." 

"Using a condom and for ninety minutes only," Mycroft said. "I could do a DNA test if you wish to calm your fears." 

"I just used to think that was why you liked Will looking like me." 

"Because I like your features, not because it would make me feel better." 

Greg laughed. 

"Why am I hilarious this time?" Mycroft asked. Greg shook his head. 

"No reason really. How was the theatre?" 

Mycroft gave a distinct shudder. "Awful, people and noise and..." he gave another shudder. 

"What about your parents?" Again the edge in his voice was unmistakable. Mycroft raised his eyebrows. 

"They cope better in such situations."

"Have you actually got around to telling them about me, and their grandson?!" 

"They were always aware, of something, just not the entire facts." 

Greg glowered, straightening up to face Mycroft. 

"And you didn't think to mention anything to me!" his voice rose and then lowered when he realised where he was stood. Greg glanced at Will to make sure the little boy was still sleeping before pushing Mycroft from the room. Mycroft backed up without resistance. 

"You've never told me anything about your parents," Mycroft argued in a way that was guaranteed to raise Greg's ire.

"And you already know anyway!" He knew that by the tone of Mycroft's voice. "You would have found a way to look into that before you made the offer of the contract!" 

"Of course I did!" Mycroft snapped back, in a tone that clearly wondered why Greg hadn't realised that earlier. "And considering the danger a good number of us were in due to Moriarty's actions, it seemed unwise to add my parents to that number, until Sherlock had taken down the network." 

That had logic. Greg couldn't really argue with it. 

"And as a general rule, neither the alpha or omega's parents involve themselves during the first few years of the bonding." 

"Oh please," Greg snorted. "They still know what's going on!" 

"And you never asked me." 

That actually brought Greg up short. Because it was entirely true. He knew Mycroft through Sherlock and now it was more a case of knowing Sherlock through Mycroft. Greg understood the alpha extremely well.

"I can't argue with that," he confessed. 

"No," Mycroft said without rancour. "And perhaps I should have said something. My parents would, when they know the full story, like to be involved. Considering the way you clearly feel about your own parents, it seemed illogical to assume that mine would be welcome." 

"It depends how they would feel about to choosing a male omega. Would they mind that?" 

Greg tensed slightly as he watched Mycroft's uncertain expression. 

"I cannot say. However, who I choose, is my choice, and I chose you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to get back into writing stuff. It might be a bit haphazard to begin with, but will do my best.

Will perked up as he trotted into the pub. He knew the place well, and as Greg released his hand he ran over to the table where Anderson sat. Will peered over the edge of the table, staring at the smooth surface before clambering into a chair. He pressed his fingertip onto the tabletop. 

"Stuff?!" he demanded of Anderson. 

"I don't have any," Anderson informed him. Will scowled at him, then at the table. As Greg came over he looked up for an explanation, pointing to the tabletop again. 

"Want stuff!" Will announced. 

"Oh, let him have it," Greg ordered. Anderson's bag rested against the table leg, he was bound to have something with him.

"What's the point?" Anderson snapped, but he reached down to retrieve a file from his bag. The papers within looked extremely haphazardly pushed in. The cardboard wallet was packed, the edges of the papers poking out haphazardly, as if they had been screwed up and shoved in. Despite the disorder Will perked up at the sight of it, hardly noticing when Greg put some juice in front of him.

"Back in a sec," he added as he went over to collect their pints. He had a driver today, so he could have a drink, and he spotted two of the secret service men that regularly tailed him. One waved, the other grinned, Greg rolled his eyes and shook his head. They were being so obvious, probably because there was no need to be subtle at these meetings any more. Anderson didn't have any controversial information now, he just had some of Sherlock's history, and Mycroft had released it all to the relevant authorities. 

All except one bit of vital information. 

Greg got back with the drinks to find Anderson had spread a map out onto the table. Will fiddled with the badly ripped edge, looking curiously at the tear that marred the nearest corner. Greg frowned and looked at Anderson, who shrugged. 

"It fell off the wall."

Greg lifted a section, looking at the six inch tear that ran across the corner. 

"Quite violently it would appear," Greg said. "Did the wall hate it?" 

Anderson glared at him and then ignored him in favour of William. Greg had picked up a pack of little crayons from the bar and he pulled them out of the packet to allow Will to draw. Anderson put some pieces of paper in front of him, part of his carefully put together research. Will started to draw on them, very carefully, looking at the map and other diagrams and picture as he did so, his expression serious, as if he was engaged in extremely important research. He was copying Anderson, who had taken his research very seriously, but also Mycroft, who looked similarly absorbed when he worked from home, and never closed a door unless the phone call required it, allowing Will to free range around the house. Will was at the stage of copying people, Greg and Mycroft especially. 

Greg read a snippet from one of the pieces of paper Will worked on. 

"This stuff's pretty vital isn't it?" 

"Does it matter now?" 

"It seemed quite comprehensive," Greg said. "Are you quite sure you want Will's thoughts all over it." 

Anderson shrugged, and Greg raised his eyebrows before sipping his pint. He watched his friend scan the room, probably locating the two agents, who were there for no reason at all now as far as Greg could see, other than the fact that minding Greg tended to be an easy job. They got an afternoon in the pub, even if they had to stay sober. Greg deciding to meet friends to watch the football was a particularly lucrative detail. 

"Mycroft must have taken everything you found somewhat seriously."

It was right after all, at least most of it was. Anderson had tracked Sherlock's movements with great accuracy. Greg hadn't found it all that convincing, other than the fact Mycroft clearly upped security when he was in Anderson's presence. It had been the biggest giveaway. 

"Daddy!" Will demanded, pushing the paper he had scrawled on over to him. Greg looked at it seriously, looking at the scrawls that were, he assumed, Will's attempt at writing. He'd already started teaching Will the alphabet, and he picked information up at a rate that presumably meant he had Mycroft's intelligence. 

"Very good." 

Will grinned and pulled the paper back, picking up the green crayon he started to use that instead and then pulled two sheets of paper together. He started to scribble in a very concentrated way. Greg kept half an eye on what he was doing while he looked at Anderson. 

"I would have thought you'd be pleased. Everything you researched had credibility. You could probably get your job back if you wanted it." 

"You didn't believe anything I said." 

"I never said that," Greg said, Anderson glowered. "All right, I did say it, but I knew what heavyweight security was sitting at the bar, so trust me, there was a reason I said I didn't believe it. I did a bit of research on my own. The moment Mycroft packed to go to Serbia it all fell into place." 

Anderson picked up a sheet of paper and he stared at it before laying it on the table and slowly smoothing it out. Greg felt a little sorry for him, while Sherlock was gone, presumed dead, there was some zeal to Anderson's campaign. Sherlock's return took the wind out of it. 

"Look, I know you felt guilty, which was what all this was about," Greg started, leaning across the table. 

"It was nothing to do with that!" Anderson snapped slamming his hand down on the table. Will paused what he was doing to look up, his eyes drifting between the two men as he felt the tension, and tried to work out the cause. Greg kept his eyes on his ex-colleague, who looked away first. 

"I just thought..." 

"Whatever you thought, it was right to think. Moriarty did a good job, even I started to believe it, and Mycroft had to do what he thought was right."

"What did he have to do with it?" 

"Sherlock wouldn't have pulled it off on his own," 

"Mycroft helped?" 

"Course he did. To be fair, Sherlock's clever, but he lacks organisational skills. No chance that the plan was his. Mycroft no doubt dreamt it up. All aspects of it, including taking out the snipers on me, Mrs Hudson and most importantly John. And that was no guarantee any of us were safe, Sherlock had to go through with it. Moriarty killed himself, so Sherlock had to do the same, it was the only thing he could do." 

"But he didn't do it! It was just a clever ploy." 

"Yes, but so clever it was believed, by everyone except you and your friends, who loved coming up with theories as to how it was done. I checked, Derren Brown, not involved." 

Anderson looked sulky, and glared at his pint. Greg sipped his own and frowned as he looked at him. 

"Why are you so pissed off at being proved right?" Greg said. Anderson looked up at him. 

"Do you know how he did it?" Greg asked. 

"I've just spoken to him." 

Greg waited, but Anderson was unforthcoming. 

"Daddy!" Will showed Greg two sheets of paper, carefully scrawled on in both red and green. Greg looked at it carefully, pulling them closer as he realised there appeared to be a certain pattern to where William was drawing. William pointed to his red coloured, which had marked out, quite distinctly Sherlock's name. Greg then turned his attention to the green markings. Which located, it appeared, matching words on the two different pages. 

"Very good. Can you find all the 'thes'?" It was an easy enough word to find, and Will probably knew it. Greg watched as he pulled one sheet towards him and carefully pulled out the blue crayon. His lower lip pushed out as he stared at the piece of paper, then Will's little finger located the right word and he started to colour it in carefully. 

He looked at Anderson, who looked more sulky than William in a strop. 

"So, I don't think he's told anyone else, so you are the only person who knows, other than Mycroft." 

"Who thought it up." 

"Sherlock probably had a hand in it, almost certainly the dramatics of it. Although I supposed he had to seriously convince John, which wouldn't have been easy." 

"That's why he got people in the crowd to keep John away and stop him examining him too hard. They all knew their part but not the whole plan." 

"He's told you!" 

Greg shook his head. "No, Mycroft told me a little of the logistics but not the whole plan. I didn't ask." 

Anderson snorted, "It's not worth knowing." 

"Daddy!" 

Greg, slightly perturbed, turned to look down at Will and the two pages of work he had now carefully added blue colour to them. 

"That's very good," he told Will who grinning up at him. "Now drink some of your juice, and do you want pasta or nuggets for your lunch." 

"Uggets," Will spluttered as he drank and answered at the same time. Greg, looking at the expression on Anderson's face decided to leave the subject well alone. 

Instead he went to the source. 

"What did you say to Anderson?" he asked Sherlock, as he decided to go home via Baker Street and find out straight away.

"Nothing that wasn't true." 

Greg raised his eyebrows and stared at Sherlock, not that Sherlock paid him any attention. His focus was on Will. Sherlock found the children fascinating, as Will stared at the bubbling liquid on the kitchen table, Sherlock watched him with just as much interest. 

"So why is he so pissed off. He ripped up most of his research." 

Greg tried not to be irritated by the smug look on Sherlock's face, until Sherlock said. 

"You heard some of his theories." 

"Of course."

"The truth, inevitably, is far more tedious."


End file.
